


Spectre

by Morse_s Child (sherlockstummy)



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, Supernatural AU - Freeform, bek - Freeform, mythical AU, visage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4527108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockstummy/pseuds/Morse_s%20Child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Visage." Everything is going well for our heroes until a new supernatural threat arises. Will such mysterious beings be overcome, or will the world be lost to them forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark December

Robbie Lewis was surprised to find himself looking forward to Christmas.

In the years following Val’s death, Christmas had seemed sort of mechanic. There wasn’t much to look forward to, except being alone and missing her. Now, with two lovers and a new home to look after, Robbie was considerably more in the holiday spirit. Luckily, it was catching; at times, the whole station seemed cheery. Robbie chuckled to think of Morse’s grumpiness that didn’t change with the seasons.

Cold weather meant lots of hot chocolate and warm meals in front of the fireplace. He’d long ago stopped thinking of Laura’s house as hers. Even though technically the house was in her name, it belonged to all of them now. Laura had wasted no time in telling her boys to make themselves at home and, in time, they had.

James had brought his guitar and moved in his clothes, as had Robbie, before the cold weather came. And they were both quite content. Robbie and Laura shared the master suite, but James had the spare bedroom just in case he ever needed or wanted his own space. Over the months, he and Laura and James had learned how to make a threesome work in bed. At first, it had been awkward, and there was a lot of good-natured laughing, but eventually, it had worked out quite nicely. James wasn’t always in the mood for sex, however; hence, the room of his own.

Still, it was nice. Robbie enjoyed making the house his home. He took pride in cooking and cleaning, never complaining if he had to tidy up after his lovers. He enjoyed it, actually; he had never liked living alone. And he had enjoyed visits from Morse more often than he liked to admit.

He had heard from the ghost here and there. It was comforting to know he was being watched carefully by a concerned party on the other side. Now that Morse was resting from his ordeal all those months ago, he looked healthier, and more as he had appeared in life, which Robbie counted as a good thing. 

It was only the second week of December and Robbie was already ready for Christmas. Packages to his kids and grandchild were ready to be sent out, and presents for James and Laura were squirreled away, ready to be wrapped. He’d even gotten a present of sorts for Morse; rich, dark ale that he planned to leave out on the mantle on Christmas eve for the ghost’s enjoyment. It seemed as if nothing could interrupt this perfect year.

And then, the reports started to come in.


	2. It's too Cold Outside for Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old father Long-Legs  
> Can’t say his prayers:  
> Take him by the left leg,  
> And throw him down the stairs.
> 
> And when he’s at the bottom,  
> Before he long has lain,  
> Take him by the right leg,  
> And throw him up again.

Morse had been able to spend most of his time in the spirit realm resting. In the weeks following Gull’s defeat, he’d felt the weight of weakness fighting off the Shadows had caused him. 

He felt his rest was far from undeserved, so he slept peacefully. Or, what equated to sleep for ghosts, anyway.

It was during this rest one night when he’d first heard the eerie song:

“Old father Long-Legs  
Can’t say his prayers:  
Take him by the left leg,  
And throw him down the stairs.”

Half-asleep in exhausted rest, Morse had almost been able to write it off as a figment of the ever-changing realm. However, something in particular disturbed him about this song.

It was sang…by children.

Morse had been dead long enough to know that the spirits of dead children never lasted long. They spent minutes, no more than mere hours, wandering aimlessly in the realm before the lights of heaven (or, indeed, wherever the Eternal Rest was or whatever it was called) shone down on them, encasing them in warm light and bringing them away from the uncertainty and eternal waiting that was the realm of spirits. Morse never envied them this refuge; children should never have to die. And, he had heard, that the worlds of the living and the dead agreed that child spirits should always be given a second chance.

Any children lingering here had to be heaven’s mistake. This was Morse’s first thought.

“And when he’s at the bottom,  
Before he long has lain,  
Take him by the right leg,  
And throw him up again.”

Their laughter didn’t sound like the laughter of living children. In the spirit realm, the voice of a child was like the prettiest bells. Morse liked to listen to its fleeting presence, in fact, as it rivaled every living symphony he’d ever witnessed. No, this was different. It sounded hollow, monotone, forced.

Morse rose in his bed, watching outside his window. Figures encased in shadow danced in a circle around a maypole. Whatever these spirits were, they seemed to respect the boundaries created by him as an illusion, separating himself from the rest of the world. He could see, though, that his boundaries were wavering; whatever they were, they must have been extremely powerful. 

Morse arose from bed as their song began again. 

“Old father Long-Legs  
Can’t say his prayers:  
Take him by the left leg,  
And throw him down the stairs.”

As Morse got closer, their figures became clear. Indeed, they were dancing around a silver maypole with black and violet silk hanging down from its top. Around and around the figures went; children with dark hair, pale skin, and dark, Puritan clothing with high collars and long sleeves.

“And when he’s at the bottom,  
Before he long has lain,  
Take him by the right leg,  
And throw him up again.”

The children seemed to be looking at their feet, their eyes downcast. Morse had the eerie feeling their rhyme was directed at him.

Their laughter, hollow as a mute bell, stopped their play. There seemed to be slightly older children standing beneath the maypole, the younger ones going around in circles, dancing. As if sensing him, though, they all stopped, deathly silent and still. An older boy, taller than all the others, went to lift his head.

Morse felt his stomach turn. He immediately left for the living realm.


	3. Among the Wreck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet domestic bliss is broken by an all-too-familiar feeling of dread.

Lewis’ stomach growled.

It was a grim reminder that he’d wanted to knock off an hour ago, but there were reports to be filled out, overtime sheets to approve, Detective Inspector responsibilities to be done. He sighed, reigned in his hunger, and got back to work.

It was not unusual for Robbie to cook for the three of them. When not trying to be adventurous or impressive, Robbie was a decent cook. He had mastered several comfort foods; pasta with butter and sauce, chicken noodle soup, pretty much anything where you could basically dump all the ingredients in at once. He had even mastered the perfect, melt-in-your-mouth chocolate chip cookies (which, honestly, appealed to the sweet tooths of his lovers). Sure, he couldn’t win The Great British Bake-Off, but at least his tried-and-true recipes were edible. 

Robbie’s stomach growled louder and he suppressed a groan. He couldn’t work like this, not with the office so damn quiet and his stomach nagging him for a decent meal. Hathaway must’ve heard his defeat, anyway, because he glanced up.

“Why don’t you go home, luv? I can finish up here.”

Robbie smiled. James must have been feeling pretty cocksure if he dared to call him “luv” when they could easily be within earshot of any number of night shift PCs drifting slowly into the office. Maybe even CS Innocent, if she was still around.

“You sure?” Robbie was making to stand already; to be honest, he was glad for the out. It was only Wednesday, and the station was swamped with new cases. As it was, they’d just finished one that had eaten into one of their week-ends. With the cold setting in and so much bustle, Robbie was eager to get a good meal into himself and his lovers, who were both worn thin from the constant work. He’d have just enough time to start a meal; pasta, he thought, with a meat sauce. Comforting, warm, filling. Just what they all needed after a week from hell.

James chuckled, nodding. “I could hear your stomach from here. Go on. I’ll be along in a bit.”

Robbie slipped into his coat, but hesitated. “You came in with me.”

“Laura’s still in, I think?” James reached for his phone. “I’ll shoot her a text and catch a ride home with her.”

“All right.” Robbie settled his shoulders, satisfied that his lovers had a way home, since, indeed, he’d given a ride to James this morning when the other man’s Saab wouldn’t start. “See you in a tick.” He leaned over to briefly kiss James and then turned to walk out of the office. Yes, hot toddies and pasta were just what the doctor ordered.  
As soon as Robbie opened the station doors, the cold air sliced right through his coat and deep into his skin. He huddled into his coat, already reaching for his keys as he carefully made his way down the icy steps in the dim light. A ghost of an inspector he had seen many times but couldn’t put a name to tipped his hat. Robbie nodded courteously and made his way to the Vauxhall. Spirits hovering round the station didn’t bother him. Either they were residual energies, just wisps of unintelligent hauntings that mindlessly repeated their last steps in life, or they were friendly police officers just checking up on things. Not harmful. Most of the ghosts were as old as the station itself, and had followed it through its many remodels. Robbie knew most of the ghosts by sight; most of them he’d met as a sergeant first starting at Thames Valley.

Robbie got to his car and opened it. Inside was no better than outside, and Robbie was quick to start up the car and turn on the heated seats to their highest setting. Satisfied that he soon would not be able to see his breath, he pulled out of the dark parking lot and set off for home, his empty stomach content with fantasies of the food he would soon be making and, later, eating.

 

In the Oxfordshire countryside just outside the city limits, Bertrand Brennan had just finished shutting up his cows for the night. He was just fixing himself a meager supper when the doorbell rang.

Brennan checked his watch and, with an irritated sigh, left his soup to cook and opened his heavy oak door. “Yes? What is it?”

Two young boys stood on his doorstep. One of them was taller and looked a mite older. The younger one was holding the other’s hand. Both of them were dressed in black clothes unsuitable for the weather. Brennan thought this was odd; however, that was not what struck him. These children had ethereally pale skin, and both of them had their heads bowed, eyes on the ground. 

“Sir,” the older boy spoke in a calm voice that didn’t match his dress, “My brother and I are lost. Could we perhaps use your phone, please?”

Brennan had been a father once, so he wasn’t a man who lacked compassion for children. However, something about these kids made him want to turn and run the other way instead of complying with their request. “I, uh…”

“Please, sir,” the older boy insisted. “We’re lost, and my brother is hungry. Could we come in, just for a minute, and warm up?”

Brennan started to sweat. “Listen, boys…”

“Please,” said the younger boy, lifting his head for the first time.

The last thing Brennan remembered was those soulless eyes, completely and utterly black.

 

Robbie heard the door open, so he called through, “Welcome back, my loves!”

“Mmm!” Laura exclaimed. “Something smells heavenly! I’m starving!” She darted into the kitchen and Robbie felt himself hugged quite suddenly from behind. “Thank you for cooking, Robbie. You’re a star.”

“I was hungry meself. Thought we could all do with a good meal.” As he turned around to embrace Laura properly, he none-too-subtly eyed up James. “Lanky Sod over here in particular.”

James mock-glared as he leaned elegantly against the doorframe. “I didn’t hear anybody complaining about me being lanky in bed last Saturday.”

“Oof, have we really not made love since then?” Laura asked, stepping away from Robbie just long enough to pull James into the hug. She rested her chin on James’ chest. “My, we really have been busy!”

“Well, hopefully, there’ll be time for that once things settle down a bit at the office.” Robbie ushered his lovers to the table. “Go ‘n make yourselves useful, will you? Dinner’ll be done in a tick.”

Laura pulled James down for a proper snog. “Oh, I missed that. You never let me get near when you’ve got your nose in a case.”

James blushed. “You’re the better kisser, by far. It’d distract me.”

Laura bumped his hip playfully as she moved pat him to get the silverware. James, having noticed the hot toddy supplies, started to prepare three of them.

As Robbie promised, dinner was soon finished, and they each had a generous helping of angel hair pasta with fresh tomato meat sauce for flavor. Oh, and lots of butter, too. They all clearly needed the extra calories. Or, that was Robbie’s reasoning, in any case. Besides, it added a bit of flavor to the pasta.

They ate in relative silence for a while, focused on filling their bellies. After they’d all gone for seconds, and then thirds, the conversation began to pick up. The hot toddies made them a bit cheerier as well, bellies warm and full of good whiskey and good pasta.   
James furtively loosened his belt. “That was good, Robbie. Thank you. I didn’t realize I was hungry.”

Robbie stretched, having already loosened his belt. “That explains why you’re so thin, clever clogs. We’ll have to fix that.”

James blushed. “I’m not, really. It’s my body type.”

“Maybe some of it is,” Laura teased, reaching over to tickle him briefly. “And don’t get me wrong, that rower’s body of yours has always given me food for thought.” She stopped tickling when James pulled her hands away. “Robbie and I just think you need a bit more…padding. That’s all.”

“Cause we care, bonny lad.” Robbie added.

“Oh, well, I…” James was interrupted by having to muffle a burp, and the three shared a pleasant laugh.

In the corner of his vision, Robbie thought he caught sight of something. In a flash, he sat up and turned to look over the back of his chair.

“Robbie?” Laura asked, concerned. “What is it? What did you see?”

“I thought…” Robbie shook his head. A flash of white hair, bright blue eyes piercing through to his soul… Morse’s calling card. He’d sworn to seeing it before More had officially started coming to visit him. Obviously, their mood had scared him off. But…why? After Gull’s permanent defeat, Morse had never shied away from them…unless they were about to be intimate. Why…? “…nothing, luv. It’s nothing.” He turned back to the table, shaking his head. “Everything’s fine. Jes thought I saw something.”

There was silence for a moment longer. James yawned.

Laura stood up. “All right. Bedtime.” She raised the remainder of her toddy. “To a week-end off!”

“Cheers.” Robbie and James echoed, raising their glasses. They all drank in unison and then headed off to bed.

Even sandwiched by his lovers, one comfortably on either side of him, Robbie couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shh, Robbie can totally cook. Just let it be.
> 
> I'm not good with cars, so I've no idea about anyone's besides Robbie's, which I caught thanks to another fanfiction author. So...let's pretend James has a Saab?? (Which is a nod to my little brother, who is a Saab snob.)
> 
> Also, I'm sorry if this treads the line between fanfic and feederism porn a bit...sorry, I couldn't resist giving my lovelies a good feeding-up.


	4. Rain to Rust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James bent over and dry-heaved into the grass.
> 
> "What did you see?" Robbie asked worriedly.
> 
> "I think..." James swallowed. "I think they're dread worms, Sir."

The call came in early, before any of them were awake.

Laura, the lightest sleeper of them all, roused first to the vibrations of a mobile phone, then the chime of another. She reached over a snoring Robbie to wake James. She’d learned from experience that he was easier to wake. “James.” She shook harder. “James!”

James yawned loudly, stretching luxoriously like a cat. Damn him and his natural, lanky sod grace. “Mmm?” He mumbled sleepily.

“Phone.” Laura lay back down against Robbie’s warm skin, satisfied that the situation was taken care of.

James got out of bed, shivering in the early morning cold. “Hathaway.” He said into the phone. He listened for a while, then nodded. “Right. Okay. I’ll be there in ten.” He hung up and then started shaking Robbie.

Robbie stirred, grunting. “Mph.”

“It’s a case, Sir. Dead body out in Oxfordshire.”

“’S confirmed?” Robbie asked, still half asleep and rising like a zombie from the grave.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Right.” Robbie yawned and scratched himself as he fumbled for clothes clumsily in the relative dark. 

Laura groaned and put a pillow over her head as she heard her phone chiming. “Ugh. Tell them I’m dead.” She moaned, before reaching over to take the same call James had just fielded. At least, she reflected, she had the luxury of being able to take her time; Inspectors were very much in the habit of waiting for their pathologists.

James was up and dressed and headed out to start up his Saab, bundled up in his winter wool coat and a warm scarf. Robbie finished dressing and shaving and grabbed two breakfast bars out of the cabinet, stored there for calls such as these. “Bye, luv,” he said, kissing Laura sweetly. “See you soon.”

Laura smiled sleepily, half-dressed and trying to decide which trousers to wear. “You tell James he owes me a good-bye kiss.”

Robbie smiled cheekily and pulled on his coat. He climbed into the passenger seat of the silver Saab and handed James a bar. “Eat this. And you owe Laura a kiss.”

James leaned over to kiss Robbie. “Morning, love.”

“Morning.” Robbie opened up his bar. “Body in Oxfordshire, eh?”

James nodded as he pulled out of the drive. “Some big old turn-of-the-century farmhouse, complete with cows in a heated barn. No other details. SOCO’s on their way, so I’m told.”

“Who reported it in?”

“Janey Hill. She’s a student from one of the agricultural colleges in the area. She helped out at the farm sometimes.”

“I assume we have ID, then?”

“Bertrand Brennan. Janey didn’t have much to say except that he was ‘a very decent man’.”

There was silence while they ate their breakfasts. Robbie debated telling James about Morse’s aborted visit last night and the bad feelings it brought with it, but before he could gather up enough courage to speak, they reached the farm.

The early dawn’s chill seemed even worse in the wide countryside, without any buildings to hold in heat. Some SOCOs were already on the scene, and half a dozen PCs were marking off the scene with police tape. Laura’s car pulled up as they were getting out and one of her techs handed her a scene suit.

“Hello, boys!” Laura greeted. They were trying to keep their unconventional relationship a secret, lest it turn the wrong heads. The world was still a dangerous place for people like them.

James and Robbie nodded, already numb from the cold. Laura had thought to bring a warm hat and gloves along with her winter coat. She only removed them to put on some sanitary gloves. 

“Shall we?” She preceded them into the farmhouse, the boys following behind. Robbie was on the lookout for any spirits lingering. James heard the lowing of cows in the barn as he crossed the threshold. A scrawny barn cat watched them with pensive eyes.

Both inspector and sergeant were looking around the house now as Laura addressed the corpse before them. Robbie eventually gave up looking for a lost spirit; clearly, he wasn’t going to find one. “Well?”

“Healthy male, mid-sixties, I’d guess, given his appearance.” Laura began. “Cause of death was, well…” She gestured to a hollow hole in the middle of the corpse. “I can’t really say what caused this, but I’d guess that’s how he bled to death.”

Robbie leaned over to look down into the hole and frowned. It seemed to him that something had dropped through the ribs and straight down into the body. He shuddered, though the house was warm. Corpses didn’t bother him, but this made his skin crawl. “Time?”

“Between 9:30 and midnight.”

James looked at the corpse and immediately went green. He looked away.

“James?” Robbie asked. But James had already scampered outside. He bent over and dry-heaved into the grass. A warm hand ran along his spine soothingly. “Take your time, lad.” When James had recovered and was able to stand, Robbie was at his arm, looking worried. “What did you see, lad?”

“Maggots.” James shuddered. “I don’t know how else to describe them. Worms, of some sort, eating away at the hole…” He shivered, looking green again. “It makes me sick to think about it, Sir. I don’t like it. Whatever killed that man…” He shook his head. “It wasn’t human.”

Robbie turned to see Laura hovering wordlessly at the farmhouse door. Robbie patted James’ shoulder gently. “All right, lad. Go and sit in the car for a bit. We’ll talk when we get to the station.” James nodded dumbly and walked to the car. As Robbie turned, Laura gave him a questioning look.

“He’s fine.” Robbie reassured her as they got closer. “But something about the corpse spooked him real bad. Said he saw maggots eating at the hole.”

“He’s only been dead a few hours. Too early for maggots.” Laura nodded thoughtfully. “But, you said he sees details.”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t see anything?”

Robbie shook his head. “No. His spirit wasn’t there.”

“All right.” Laura pocketed her hands. “I’ll try to get a rush on the autopsy for you. In the meantime, take care of him, won’t you?”

“Aye. You know I will, luv.”

They shared a brief press of lips, and then Robbie went back to the car. James had taken the passenger’s seat, clearly too shaken to drive.

“Pint for your nerves?” Robbie asked.

James clasped his hands together. “Robbie…I think I know what those maggots I saw are.” He said.

“Well? Spit it out, man.” Robbie said after a minute.

James swallowed again, going green even as he said it. “I think…I think they’re dread worms, Sir.”


	5. Lost to a Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James goes home sick. Robbie finds out why.

James was still looking worriedly unwell. The green had faded, but now his skin was pale and the bags under his eyes more pronounced. It was as if the very thought of the mysterious “dread worms” had caused him to be physically ill.

When they got into their office, Robbie closed the door quietly and intercepted hi junior partner before he could take off his coat. “Wait a minute, James. You look awful. I think you should take the rest of the day off.”

James’ eyes flared with a weak fight. “Sir, with all due respect, I—”

“James.” Robbie said sternly. “You really don’t look well, all right? I can manage on me own for today. Go home and get some rest, eh?”

The fight seemed to go out of James all at once. Robbie’s heart began to ache in sympathy; whatever those dread worms were, they had severely affected his sergeant. The sergeant nodded. “Call me, if there are any developments?” He shook his mobile.

“Course.” Robbie promised.

James nodded and made his way out of the office.

Robbie sat down in his chair heavily and sighed, rubbing a hand over his entire face. He got the sudden feeling that he was not alone, and he knew no one had opened the door. “Hello, Sir.” He said.

Morse stood in front of him. He looked tired, but it was nowhere near as bad as he’d looked during the Gull case. He smiled at Robbie’s greeting. “Good morning, Lewis.” He looked around curiously. “Where’s James?”

“Sick.” Robbie replied. “I just sent him home.”

Morse nodded. “Robbie…you didn’t by chance get called to a crime scene today?”

“Aye,” Robbie replied slowly, not sure where Morse was going with this. “That is me job, after all. Did you forget what Inspectors do for a living?”

But Morse wasn’t having the joke. “The corpse…” he hesitated, probably suppressing his own illness, “it didn’t…have a hole in it, did it?”

Robbie sat up, feeling anxiety knot his stomach. “Yeah. It did.”

“Right through the ribs? Into the…” Morse gestured vaguely. “Guts, and things?”

“Yeah…”  
Morse sat back against James’s desk, severely troubled. “Oh shit.”

“Sir…?” Morse’s reaction worried him, knotting his anxiety tighter.

“The reason James went home sick,” Morse began; Robbie hated it when he did that, presented two lines of inquiry at once. It made him difficult to follow. “It wasn’t due to dread worms, was it?”

“Aye, it was.” Robbie leaned further forward. “Sir? Is James…?”

Morse’s eyes read the painful worry in Robbie’s eyes. “No, Lewis, don’t worry. James will be all right. If he ingested one of the worms, he may be sick for a while. Flu-like symptoms, I should think. High fever…” He hesitated, turning green himself, “vomiting…that sort of thing. Until it passes. Just keep an eye on him.”

“Wait…” Robbie sat back in hi chair, creaking the old springs. “You mean to tell me…he ate one?”

“Well, not on purpose.” Morse replied matter-of-factly. “They like to latch onto sensitives. No one really knows why. They’re just pests to the living; a nuisance, really.”

“And to the dead?” Robbie asked.

“Well, they’re a parasite that needs living flesh,” Morse went on. “The dead can’t be affected. However,” he cleared his throat, “a corpse, that’s been deprived of its essence, can.”

Robbie thought a moment. “But…why didn’t we see any with the Gull case?”

Morse shook his head. “Dread worms flock to bodies whose souls have been extracted through violent means.”

Robbie swallowed. “Oh God…” he paled. “But…what could do such a thing?”

Morse was about to speak when the door swung open. It was a young constable. “Sir, I’ve just been notified that Dr. Hobson wants you down in autopsy.”

“Right.” Robbie nodded, rising without sparing Morse a glance. He had learned such a habit to protect himself from detection. 

“Robbie,” Morse said as he left, “ask Laura if the heart has been removed.”

Robbie acknowledged by lifting a finger as he closed the door to his office.

Dread worms? Soul extraction? A corpse with a missing heart? Too many possibilities buzzed like angry bees inside his head.

Already, he was missing Hathaway.


	6. Shivers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a man in our town   
> And he was wond'rous wise;   
> He jumped into a bramble bush   
> And scratched out both his eyes.

When Robbie entered autopsy alone, Laura turned curiously. “No James?” he had tried to sound casual, but her eyes, filled with concern, gave her away.

“He looked really ill. I sent him home.” Robbie shivered; the morgue was always cold. He looked around to make sure none of the techs were around before speaking. “Morse seems to think one of the maggots he saw-dread worms, they’re called-latched onto him.”

“Oh God.” Laura braced herself against the table. “Will he be okay?”

“Morse seems to think he’ll just have flu symptoms, and I trust him on that.” Robbie shrugs. “Guess it’s like any other bug. It’s just a waiting game.”

“Call him after we’re done in here.” Laura ordered. “Make sure he’s all right. I can run home on my lunch hour, make him some stew.”

Robbie smiled. “Thanks, luv. Innocent would go barking mad if I left just now.”

Laura nodded with a business-like air and got straight to work. “The ribs have been severed, cut straight through. I’d almost say with laser-like precision. It would take a saw to cut through human bone, and the edges from a saw blade cut would be more jagged than this.”

“You don’t think this is a human on human crime,” Robbie said.

“I don’t think; that’s your job. I just state the facts.” Laura replied, somewhat cheekily.

Robbie sighed fondly. “Right. And, Laura…were any internal organs removed?”

“Yes, actually,” Laura looked at her chart. “The heart was missing.”

Robbie felt his stomach drop. “Right. Thanks.” He turned to go.

“Robbie?”

Robbie turned back around. Laura made a symbol that meant “phone” with her thumb and pinky fingers. Robbie reached for his phone and shook it teasingly. “See you later, luv. Thanks.”

He dialed through to James’ mobile.

“Hello,”

“James, I—”  
“You’ve reached the voicemail of James Hathaway. Leave a message.”

Robbie growled and hung up. He tried again, determined to reach his sergeant.

This time, James picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

Robbie winced; James sounded awful, voice raspy. He hated to think James may have missed his first call because he was busy “making out with a toilet,” as the slang went. “James. How are you, luv?” He was currently alone, so he felt brave enough to say it. Also, James probably needed it right now.

“Miserable.” James groaned. “I feel nauseous and cold. Think I have a fever.”

“Well, you’ll certainly be staying home for a few days.” Robbie entered his office and closed the door. “I’ll tell Innocent.”

“I think one of the dread worms latched onto me, Robbie.”

“I know, luv. Morse filled me in.” Robbie leaned against his desk, guardedly watching the door for any uninvited interruptions.

“Morse?” James coughed. “What did he have to say?”

“You were right about it not being a human on human crime. Something supernatural did this.”

James groaned, but Robbie couldn’t be sure if it was exasperation or illness. “The heart was missing.”

“Yeah. Morse told me to get on about that, too. Do you know the significance?”

He heard James shifting on the other end of the line. “Ehm…” More coughing. “The only thing I can really think of is Soul Eaters.”

“Come again?” Robbie thought there was an old black and white horror flick called “Soul Eaters.” His sergeant couldn’t be serious.

“Soul Eaters. They’re supposed to have gone extinct, though. They were outclassed ages ago by minor demons.”

“And, I guess, they do what it says on the tin.”

“Yeah, essentially. They physically dig souls out of the bodies of helpless humans, removing the heart and lungs in the process.”

“But only the heart was gone, not the lungs.”  
“I did say they went extinct, Sir. In 1987, a pack of four were captured in the Americas.” James coughed again. “The last one died in captivity in 1990.”

“They weren’t from the Afterlife, then?”

“No. They were physical beings, but their origins were unknown. A lot of conspiracy theorists thought that they came from outer space.” James snorted. Even sick, he had the ability to be an educated snob.

“Right.” Robbie took a minute to absorb all that information. “Right. I’d better go, luv—Laura wants to drop by in a few hours, mum you a bit.”

James hummed. “She can try.”

“Oi. You better let her.”

“Yes, dad.”

Robbie chuckled. “All right, I’ll see you later.”

“Robbie?” James asked tentatively.

“Yes, luv?”

“Be careful. Please? If Soul Eaters have somehow returned, I…”

“Don’t worry, canny lad. I’ll keep safe.”

James breathed a sigh of relief. “All right. Love you.”

Robbie rang off and pocketed his phone. 

If Soul Eaters had really gone extinct, who—or what—had killed Bertrand Brennan.

And why?

________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

“There was a man in our town   
And he was wond'rous wise;   
He jumped into a bramble bush   
And scratched out both his eyes.”


	7. Dark and Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gay go up, and gay go down,  
> To ring the bells of London town.

“Morse, I’ve never bloody needed ye more than now,” Robbie grumbled to himself as he stalked to the drinks cabinet and poured half of a bottle of proper beer into the glass. He set it down on the table in front of him and waited. Upstairs, he could hear James throwing up again. Poor lad. Laura was setting him up in the spare bedroom; James hated being a bother, which he wasn’t, but still, Robbie couldn’t blame him for wanting to hide away on his own. Sickness made hermits of them all.

The air in the kitchen got colder, a sure sign of Morse’s presence. Robbie necked the bottle himself and when he’d opened his eyes again, Morse was in front of him, still looking curiously weary and drawn. He pulled the beer glass into his own realm and drank deeply. “Thank you, Lewis. I needed that.” He sighed, running a hand through his mist-white hair. He looked like a spooked horse; tense and on-edge. It wasn’t how Robbie liked to remember his Chief Inspector.

“Sir, James told me about Soul Eaters. Are they really extinct?”

Morse nodded. “I don’t think there’s a chance they’d resurface. Not now. The last of them died in the Americas, anyway, so a new breed wouldn’t resurface here.”

“But the heart was missing.” Robbie pointed out. “And the bone was cleanly cut…Laura said it was like laser precision.” 

Morse grimaced at the description. “Well, I’ve been witness to…some unsettling events in the Spirit Realm.”

“That explains why you look exhausted.” Robbie noted, necking the bottle again.

Morse sighed wearily. “So I do look as awful as I feel.” He tilted his head up, swallowing in sympathy. “Though not as bad as James, I’d wager.”

“We’ll see him right.” Robbie said proudly. Morse knew he would, and smiled fondly. “So, what did you see that’s got you spooked?”

Morse closed his eyes.

__________________________________________________________________

 

He could still hear them behind him. It seemed that, even in the living realm, they were following him. He couldn’t rightly understand it, or what they were. He only knew that he felt as if he were being watched.

He could feel their inky black eyes on his skin, hear them laughing in that hollow monotone. But whenever he turned to look, they weren’t there.

“And when he saw his eyes were out,   
With all his might and main   
He jumped into another bush   
And scratched them in again!”

Morse wondered vaguely how children could ever grow up properly after hearing such horrible nursery rhymes.

Then, he remembered that these…beasts, were not children at all. Looking into their eyes, it was clear to see just how inhuman they were. 

“Here comes a candle to light you to bed,  
And here comes a chopper to chop off   
your head.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The ghost shuddered. Robbie leaned forward anxiously. “Sir?”

“Beasts.” Morse murmured, looking haunted. “Beasts, in the guise of children, with eyes as black as night.”

Robbie frowned. “You saw them?”

Morse nodded. “I…I feel as if I’m being followed, being watched.”

Robbie almost joked, “Now you know how I feel,” but the tease died on his tongue. Morse looked frightened out of his wits. “Stay close to us, Sir.” He said earnestly.

Morse nodded. “I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The notes on this story are getting really messed up. I'm sorry about that. I'll try to work on fixing it.  
> For now, please remember to leave feedback!


	8. A Bitter Cup

Kelsey Davis liked her hours of work just fine, thank you very much. She reflected upon this as she rode her bicycle down one of the many Oxford roads that all looked so similar to her. As an American studying at a prestigious British university, she had a lot to prove to her classmates, and to herself. 

She was studying English, but wanted nothing more than to go on to culinary school back home in Georgia after she was done with college. She didn’t like to admit it, but she missed her friends and family back home. Getting to work with one of the best chefs in Oxford was a real bonus, though.

Just a block from her hall, Kelsey stopped her bike. Two young girls were standing in her path. They seemed to come out of nowhere, but Kelsey, who was not superstitious in the least, thought she must’ve missed them. After all, they were wearing all black.

“Please.” The first little girl was blonde, speaking to the earth. She was dressed in a long black coat, black tights, and black shoes. She looked like one of the public school children from the area. “Please can you help us? My friend and I are lost.”

Kelsey wondered who in their right mind let children walk around before dawn. But she was exhausted and had to get up for an early class in the morning. “Look, I’m sorry…there’s a police officer right there.” She pointed up ahead to where she thought she’d seen an officer in those funny hats they wore here go around the corner on his patrol beat. 

“Can we use your mobile? To call home?” The other little girl, a brunette by the look of it, asked politely. Kelsey found it really strange they were both still staring at the ground. And, come to think of it, their skin seemed to almost glow in the dark.

Kelsey was really feeling spooked. “No, I’m sorry, I—” 

As she made to ride off on her bike, the blonde girl grabbed her arm, staring into her eyes. “Come with us.” She said in a voice that suddenly sounded very dissimilar to a child’s.

Kelsey screamed, but no one seemed to hear her.

“There was an old woman,  
Her name it was Peg;  
Her head was of wood and  
She wore a cork leg.  
The neighbours all pitch’d  
Her into the water,  
Her leg was drowned first,  
And her head followed after.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Robbie…” Laura moaned, still half asleep. “Phone.”

Robbie started out of a deep slumber and groggily reached for his phone. “Lewis,” he said, trying to shake the sleep out of his voice. “Okay. I’m on me way.” He hung up and got out of bed. “Another body, luv.”

Laura sighed. “Might as well get up now.” She reached for her phone just as it began to chime.

“I’ll go and check on James,” Robbie whispered in the dark. Laura nodded soundlessly as she rooted through the closet.

Robbie tiptoed across the hall and slowly pressed on the door to open it. James seemed to be resting easily. In the moonlight, he looked fiercely pale, the light catching the angles of his slim face. Robbie thought he was tragically beautiful. Unable to resist, he slipped inside to give James a soft kiss on his forehead, like he would to his kids when they were ill way back when. He was about to walk to the en suite bathroom to fill a glass of water for him when James stirred sleepily. “Nngh…Robbie?”

“Shh, luv,” Robbie reassured him, crossing back into view. “Go back to sleep. Get some rest.”

James rubbed his eyes. “Need the loo, anyway.” He sat up with a slight wince and Robbie checked his temperature against his own; feverish still, but much better than earlier, it seemed. James offered Robbie an eye roll and took his hand to squeeze it. “It’s another death, connected to the case.”

“We don’t know that yet.” But Robbie’s reassuring words rang hollow after his unsettling chat with Morse, and he knew it.

James sighed. “Robbie, I’m not dying. It won’t make me feel worse to tell me what you think.”

As Robbie was about to give into James’ demands, Laura, fully dressed, stepped through, “Ah, no you don’t, James Hathaway. You’re to rest.” She shoved him back against his pillows and kissed his forehead.

“Need the loo,” James said impatiently.

“Well, get up and use it, then!” Laura replied, smiling slightly. 

James gave her a thoughtful look, contemplating whether or not to take the piss (no pun intended) out of her, but wisely decided against it and headed to the loo.

“And if you’re well enough to think about talking back, you must be on the mend.” Laura called lightly as she made her way downstairs.

Robbie shook his head and went to get dressed. He looked in on James before leaving. The lad had gone back to sleep, properly exhausted due to being ill with dread worm. It turned Robbie’s rather strong stomach to think about having a pest living inside James, making him sick like this.

As a final gesture, Robbie filled a glass of water for James and then drove out to the crime scene in the biting December wind.

When he arrived, a random sergeant from the nick (who he assumed had been temporarily assigned to him in James’ absence) was already shivering in the cold by the scene tape, waiting for him. Robbie pulled up to the kerb and noticed that there was a spirit hovering by the body, but it wasn’t the dead victim.

He tipped his head slightly to acknowledge Morse and then strode with confidence over to the sergeant.

“Sergeant Abel reporting, Sir.” She said, trying to suppress her shivering. Robbie felt bad; she was a tiny little thing and, though dressed for the weather, her small frame seemed unable to hold onto heat. He lifted up the scene tape, leaving it up long enough for her to duck under after him and walked towards the corpse.

“What have we got, then?”

“Kelsey Davis, of St. Mary’s college, according to her student I.D. Lives on the college grounds just there.” Abel pointed. Robbie glanced vaguely in that direction. The sun was just peaking over Oxford’s pointed spires, but the weak winter light brought no promise of warmth with it. 

“Who found her?”

“A rower headed down to the river for crew practice. He had to go, but we’ve taken his statement.” Abel handed him the details; Robbie looked them over, with Morse also reading over his shoulder. 

“Right. Thanks.” Robbie nodded to her. “Mind you get something hot when you get back to the nick.” He couldn’t help it; even though she wasn’t James, he didn’t have it in him to dismiss her obvious shivering.

Abel blushed. “Yes, Sir. I’ll have both files on your desk for you.”

“Thanks.” Robbie didn’t bother to ask about the second file. He didn’t care a mite right now. He lifted his head just slightly and glanced a Morse; clearly a look that asked, “Well?”  
“I followed the nursery rhymes,” At Robbie’s raised eyebrow, Morse explained: “It seems to be their calling card. And they’re not nice rhymes, mind you. But anyway, I’ve been here nearly since she died. No spirit at all.”

“They’re eating her soul.” Robbie murmured.

“Or taking it, storing it somewhere. But it’s not here.”

Robbie glanced around, wishing he had James at his back. With his sergeant catching all the little details Robbie missed, nothing supernatural went unseen between them. Robbie couldn’t help feeling blind and just a bit helpless.

“There are dread worms,” Morse added. “Just so you know.” He correctly interpreted the question in Robbie’s eyes. “No, they won’t latch onto you, or Laura. Only sensitives. Only full humans.”

Robbie nodded and walked towards Laura, taking the body’s temperature. “Time of death?”

“Can’t say.” Laura frowned. “It’s too cold out; the body’s lain here for who knows how long.”

“Is the cause the same?”

Laura nodded. “Might be able to tell you more after autopsy.”

Lewis glanced up as he leaned against the side of the building. Peering through the dark, he noticed something odd sticking out from the side of the brick.

A security camera. Perfect. “Morse,” he said quietly. He didn’t care if Laura heard, but he was aware of the techs and constables hovering about the scene. “Can you check if that camera’s still rolling?”

Morse looked up to follow Robbie’s eye and groaned. “Do I have to? It’s so bloody high.”

Robbie gave Morse a long-suffering look.

Morse took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “All right.” He floated up towards the camera. Robbie watched as Morse became nothing more than a mist as he, essentially, possessed the camera.

When Morse returned, he looked triumphant. “Yes, it’s still rolling. Well done, Robbie.”

Robbie beamed at the praise. “Good. Now we know we can ask for security tapes. There’s even a chance we’ll see our assailant.”

Morse shuddered. “Robbie…I’m not really sure you want to.”

Robbie turned to ask what Morse was on about, but the ghost was gone, leaving nothing but questions in his wake.


	9. When they Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie finally gets a good look at his suspect. What he finds is far from what he expects.

When Robbie returned from the crime scene, he found out what Abel had meant when she’d said “two files.” The first was Bertrand Brennan’s—in all the fuss yesterday, he’d forgotten that he’d sent James home sick before the lad could fetch it. And, honestly, sometimes the supernatural elements of the case outweighed the practicalities in the mortal world.

Te second file belonged to their newest victim, Kelsey Davis. By habit, Lewis began to wonder if there was some connection. Maybe, like the Gull case, these strange beasts Morse had talked of had some reason to target these two very different people. So far, on the surface, he could read no M.O. There was nothing yet to connect their victims.

There was a knock on the door and Chief Superintendent Innocent entered without further prompting. The light green scales framing her oval face were on full display with her hair being pulled up into a tight bun. Robbie wondered if the snakes minded being in such a tight ball. The tight coil was still shifting, and Robbie caught a glimpse of the snout of one of her cobras. “I see you sent Yuki off to get a hot drink.”

Robbie gave her a curious look until he caught on. “Ah, Sergeant Abel. Yes. I noticed she was shivering badly at the scene. I told her to have uniform pick up the CCTV from outside the college. We should be able to get a look at that once the tech lads look it over.”

“Right.” Innocent said neutrally, but her eyes glowed; a clear warning. “And don’t you dare scare off Yuki Abel. It’s her first case as a sergeant!”

“M’om.” Robbie replied, looking down at the files again as Innocent left the office. He was just laying out things to put on the murder board when Yuki Abel popped her head into his office. She looked less cold than she had at the scene, and even though he was happy with his partners, Robbie couldn’t help thinking she was beautiful. Asian flower came to his mind, but he shook it off. That was hardly proper in this day and age. Mustn’t start getting like Morse, he thought.

“Lads in tech said they’ve found something, sir.” Abel said, eyes bright. She had a soft voice, but that could be from inexperience.

Robbie nodded and followed her down to the tech lab in the rear of the building.

When he arrived, he greeted the young woman at the monitor with a smile and a nod. “What’ve you got for me?”

“The cameras have captured something odd.” The woman typed something in as Robbie and Abel watched the screen. 

What came into view was the typical low-end quality of security camera footage. “You can clearly make out Kelsey on her bike,” the woman tech noted. There was a flash on the screen, as if something had been edited out in a poor fashion and then two figured appeared in front of her. They were small and around the same height, dressed in black. 

“Pause that.” Robbie said. “Go back.” The tech did as instructed. “Play it from there.” They watched Kelsey ride up on her bike. There was that same footage jump again and the two smaller figures appeared. “This hasn’t been altered in any way?” Robbie asked.

“No, Sir.”

“Okay. Roll it again, please.”

They watched the silent exchange in the street lamp light. After about a minute, Kelsey got on her bike again. One of the figures grabbed her as she moved past. There was a face.

“Pause that.” Robbie said. “Can we enhance that?”

The screen zoomed in as far as it could go. It was a blurry image so far in, but the features were very telling. “It’s…it’s a kid!” Robbie exclaimed. Abel beside him looked jut as shocked.

“Sir…” she said hesitantly, “notice its eyes?”

Robbie did. God, it was sickening. No wonder Morse had cryptically said Robbie didn’t want to know what their killer looked like. 

“A long tail’d pig, or a short tail’d pig,  
Or a pig without any tail,  
A sow-pig, or a boar-pig,  
Or a pig with a curling tail.

Take hold of his tail,  
And eat off his head,  
And then you will be sure  
The pig-hog is dead.”

“Am I…” Robbie began. “I mean, that’s not a trick of the lens or the camera or…”

“No, Sir.” The tech seemed just as dumbfounded.

The child—a little girl, going by the tight blonde pigtails—had a rather generic, childlike appearance. The only difference was that her skin seemed blue, as if she’d been out in the cold far longer than one could humanly stand.   
And her eyes were nothing more than pitch black ovals.

Out of the corner of his eye, Robbie saw Abel’s hand twitch out towards his arm, but she withdrew. It was only natural that she attempt to reach out, but Robbie had seen Morse do something similar and, now knowing what he did about his guv, he had his suspicions. But there was no reason the whole station needed to know. He could keep it between them.

“Send me a snap of that?” Robbie asked the tech. He turned to Abel. “Once we get a few copies of that, have uniform go ask around. Start at the homes and colleges around the crime scenes and spread out from there.”

“Yes, Sir.” Abel nodded briskly. Robbie followed her out and caught her by the arm. She winced, probably able to feel his anxiety, determination, and a fair bit of fear in his touch.

“Look,” he said conspiratorily. “I know you’re an empath. Don’t worry,” he reassured her when she began to look like a cornered sheep. He released her arm. “I’m not gonna tell anyone. But you don’t need to keep it a secret from me. If you need distance from the case for any reason…”

“I’ll be okay, Sir.” Abel replied, looking relieved. “But…how did you know?”

“I saw you tryin ta sense me out,” Robbie chuckled at her surprised look. “Me old boss was an empath. Don’t worry, lass. Yer secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Abel then ran off to do what Robbie had told her.

Morse appeared suddenly at his elbow. “That was a very nice thing to do, Robbie. She’s lucky to have you on her side.”

Robbie nearly jumped out of his skin. “Christ! Give me a heart attack one of these days, you will!”

Morse chuckled. “Sorry.” His tone became somber. “And…I am sorry you had to see that.”

“Yeah.” Robbie opened the main doors to the CID and walked to his office. He only resumed talking to Morse once the door was safely closed. “What do you reckon they are?”

Morse shrugged. “I don’t know.” And he didn’t seem pleased about that, either. “I’ve been looking at the Library. So far, nothing matching their description. James might know.” He added helpfully.

“Aye. He was better’n you, when it all came down to it last case.” Robbie laughed warmly at Morse’s injured look. “I’m messin you about, Sir.”

Morse sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I am sorry; I feel so…out of sorts.”

Robbie felt bad for joking. He could forget so easily that, as an empath, Morse felt everything on a deeper and more personal level than he did. “Is there anything I can do to help? Do you need to eat?”

Morse shook his head, a restless air about him. “No, I’m all right.” The assertion was not convincing. “I’ll feel better once I know what we’re up against.”

Something occurred to Lewis. “Sir? Suppose…suppose they’re following you!”

“Come again?”

“You said to me last night it feels like they’re following you.”

“Yes.”

“Well? Have you been haunting near the locations of the murders?”

The files flew off of Robbie’s desk and floated in front of Morse as he read them over. “I’m always around Oxford, Lewis, so it’s possible they followed me here. But I don’t go into the outskirts of the city, unless I’m following you.” He shook his head, replacing the files on Robbie’s desk. “No way to know for sure.”

“Unless there’s another death.” Robbie pointed out.

“Yes.” Morse conceded. “Only, let’s not hope for one, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Yuki" is a common Japanese name which I have heard can mean "snow" or "princess." However, it is also the Japanese name of one of my favorite villagers in Animal Crossing, Chevre.
> 
> Also, I know Robbie gets a little bit racist in this chapter, as he was a bit misogynist in the last. Please note that these do not express the writer's views.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally set in the summer, but I decided to set it in winter instead. All because of Violet Hill by Coldplay. Yep.


End file.
